


Bite Me

by ButterflyGhost



Category: due South
Genre: Crack, Humour, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Werewolf, Whimsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray takes a long time to get to the point. Fraser is a freak. More of a freak than Ray realised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably crack. I wrote it fast and on the fly, haven't checked it, which means probably full of typos - but I'm pretty sure it's crack. I'm sleep deprived.

Fraser’s freak. I mean, I knew that, from the minute I saw him, looking all red and lost and  _‘what the fuck’_  about things. Which in itself – well, I’d have been freaked out. Poor guy – we really screwed up there. He must have thought he was going mad. Well, madder. More mad. Whatever.

 

He didn’t cope with it like a normal guy, though. Putty sandwiches – seriously. Who does that? Well, he does and you gotta admit, it’s a weird thing to do. That’s not even the half of it. Not by a long way.

 

There’s that whole talking to himself thing, his ‘oh, I can just die from toad poison and come back’ thing, how cool he is with voodoo – and, oh yeah, Narnia in his closet. 

 

He thought I didn’t know about that. I’m not telling you how I found out – that’s a whole other story, with dead Mounties, and snow storms and epic quests to find Dief and save him from evil doughnuts. I suppose I should be glad there wasn’t a witch involved, though knowing Fraser there’s a witch in his background somewhere. And then, once I’d saved Dief and swore to whatever the fuck that thing was with all the feathers that I wasn’t going to tell anyone, I just had to go back home and drink myself to sleep. Because, fuck. Even for Fraser that was messed up.

 

And then the next day I’ve got a hangover, and Fraser’s pretending not to be judgemental in that passion – paddle – something aggressive way he has. Some people have no gratitude.

 

Sorry. I went off into the long grass there. That’s not even the weirdest Fraser story I've got.

 

Which is not a bad thing. So, he’s a little bit spooky and a whole lot crazy – I don’t mind. It's weird, but it's a pleasure. That’s all part of the Fraser package. That crazy, goofy, incredible package. 

 

The weirdest thing, though, is that he speaks wolf. I mean,  _he actually speaks wolf._  At first I thought it was just one of his mild eccent – accent – weirdnesses. I thought, so he grew up lonely, in a library, with fossils for grandparents who took away his toys. (Vecchio told me that. We’re bad people – we talk about him behind his back. We got to. Nobody else would believe us.)

 

So, it’s no wonder a) that he read every book in the whole damn world and knows everything, or 2) he has imaginary friends, a magic closet, and that best I can tell the ghosts are sort of real. (Or I’m as crazy as he is.) At least the wolf’s not imaginary, so that’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?

 

But, like I said; turns out Fraser speaks wolf.

 

Which I don’t mind, now that I know. I like Dief. I love Dief, actually. I always liked dogs, not that Dief’s a dog. It’s more like he’s Fraser’s idiot – ides – id. That’s the word. Id. See? Those psychology books Frannie was reading aren’t completely useless. Some of it rubbed off on me. 

 

Where it totally batshit crazy is when we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and I can’t run away screaming. Which I don't want to do, because it would upset him, it's not his fault and I love him anyway, but still. Crazy.

 

It’s dark in the tent, and there’s snow all over it. We’re cocooned. He dug out some sort of snow hole so we don’t suffocate, and the dogs dug themselves nice dens, so they’re fine. Kinda miss Dief being in here tonight, but he’s sweet on Midge so he’s cuddled up with him. Just my luck. Fraser’s wolf swings both ways but Fraser’s so straight he doesn’t even go for girls half the time.

 

But, anyway. We’re in the tent, and it’s pitch black and we can’t even put a lamp on because it would eat up oxygen. And me? I get bored easy. Always have. My Dad used to say there was no reason to be bored, there was always something to do if you put your mind to it. That’s why I’m always doing stuff; running around, dancing, boxing, listening to music, talking too much. 

 

I talk too much for the same reason he talks too much. So people don’t know what I’m thinking. I don’t know what he’s hiding with all those Inuit tales, but I know what I’m hiding with all my bullshit. I got plenty of things I want to do and my mind’s all over that. But I don’t think Fraser’d be into what I’m thinking about, so I leave it. 

 

Which means I’m bored and horny, so I talk shit. I like talking shit with Fraser. It always seemed like we were saying more than we were saying, which meant I could daydream about us falling into each other’s arms one day.

 

I’m a sap. Another secret I have is that I read Frannie’s romance novels. If anyone asks, it’s because I’m doing research into the mysteries of the female mind. Nobody has to know I’m a sucker for a happy ending. 

 

Anyway. It’s dark, I couldn’t read a romance novel even if I had one. So, time to talk shit instead, just like we did in Chicago. All that’s missing are the couch, pineapple pizza and a game on television.

 

And walls, and central heating, and electrical lighting and all the comforts of home.... 

 

Okay, so there's a lot missing. I've still got Fraser, though.

 

The dogs are howling outside, so that’s what I start with.

 

“Hey, Frase. I’ve been meaning to ask.”

 

I hear fabric rustling, Fraser rolling over in his sleeping bag. I imagine he’s looking at me. 

 

“Yes, Ray?” He doesn’t sound at all sleepy. I always fall asleep before he does, and he’s always awake when I open my eyes. For a weird moment, I wonder when he does sleep. It’s not like he needs much of it.

 

“You remember when the Ice Queen kissed you?”

 

He freezes. I don’t know how I know he freezes, but I know it. And I know right there that I said the wrong thing.

 

“I remember, Ray.” Even his voice sounds stiff like he’s at parade rest. I can just see him. He’ll have the mask on, the Mountie mask. I hate when he has that face. I got to keep talking, though, or it will make things worse.

 

“I was wondering. What was with the howling?”

 

The silence changes again. It's a puzzled silence like he’s rubbing his eyebrow or something. I grin. 

 

“’Cause Frobisher’s cool – for a crazy old guy that is – but that kinda freaked me. I don’t mind the dogs howling, or the wolf. But what was he howling for? Is he a werewolf or something?”

 

There’s a long silence. I start to freak out a bit. What did I say wrong this time? 

 

“Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to diss your friend.”

 

“No, no. It’s not that.”

 

Oh, thank God he said something. I was beginning to think he’d never speak again, and I’d be stuck with a sulking Mountie all the way back to civilisation.

 

“Yeah? What is it?”

 

He clears his throat.

 

“Buck Frobisher is a werewolf.”

 

Takes a minute for me to understand that. I’ve heard the Mountie joking before, and he’s the perfect straight man. This is the best he’s ever done, though. He sounds like he means it, and for a split second, I think ‘oh shit. Werewolf.’

 

Then the penny drops. He’s taking the piss.

 

I start laughing. “Okay, Frase, you got me. For a minute there I thought you meant it.”

 

There’s another long silence and I get worried again.

 

“Hey, Frase, Buddy. What’s wrong? What’d I say?”

 

He clears his throat again.

 

“I did mean it.”

 

_Uh...._

 

“What?” My voice comes out as an uncool squeak. He’d better be shitting me. 

 

“Buck Frobisher is a werewolf.” 

 

Oh. My. God.

 

“Was he – I mean – what?”

 

“Buck Frobisher is a werewolf,” he says again, and this time he sounds pissy.

 

“Well, uh... he seems nice. I mean. Just so you know – I got no prejudice against werewolves. I’m a tolerant guy.”

 

There is a sigh and I feel a movement that tells me he’s rolled over onto his back.

 

“Thank God,” he says.

 

I open my mouth, about to say something – I have no idea what, I haven’t thought that far ahead – when I hear other movements. A zipper being pulled – he’s undoing his sleeping bag.

 

“Uh, Frase? What are you doing?” I’ve been fantasising about this, I gotta say, but something tells me that this is not the start of sexy fun times. This is Fraser going completely crazy. Had to happen one day. Why else would he be getting out of a perfectly warm sleeping bag when it's so fucking cold even for the Arctic?

 

He doesn’t say anything. I hear more rustling, more zippers being undone, buttons being unpopped. I hope he’s going to stop there. There are plenty of layers under the zippers – there have to be. Even though the zippers are sturdy plastic they still get damn cold, and you don’t need that touching skin anywhere. 

 

“Frase?” I try again. “You okay there, Buddy? You’ve not gone crazy or anything? ’Cause if you have you can tell me.”

 

More rustling, and I feel something soft whump on me. Oh shit. He’s pulling his clothes off.

 

“Hey, Frase!” I sit up and feel for him in the dark. This is so not any fantasy I ever had. He’s gone mad, he’s gonna run out into the snow, and then we’ll both freeze like popsicles because no way can I get back to civilisation without him. Not that I’d want to. Another piece of fabric lands on my head, and I can smell him on it. It’s soft. I recognise it by touch. That’s his long johns. He’s completely naked next to me.

 

“Fraser!” I grab him by the shoulders. “God’s sake, put your clothes back on. You’re gonna freeze to death!”

 

“No,” he says, and his voice sounds gravelly. Must be the cold getting to him already.

 

“Yes! Fraser, this is nuts, I need you to –”

 

“I want to show you something.”

 

Oh God, he’s gonna put the lamp on, and then we’ll not just freeze to death, we’ll suffocate.

 

“Look, Frase, you don’t got to show me. You got nothing I haven’t seen before, and I really don’t want to see them freeze and fall off.”

 

There’s this weird noise – kind of creaky, and then I feel –

 

Oh God. Fraser’s bone and muscle is moving under my hands. And the noise. Bones breaking now, I hear them crack and crunch. I pull my hands back. I’ve never been as scared in my life. I don’t know what’s happening; I know exactly what’s happening. I just don’t want to know I know it.

 

Fraser screams.

 

He’s in pain. I roll back toward him, grab him. "Buddy!"

 

He’s not there. 

 

What is there is muscle. What is there is warm and solid and –

 

Hairy.

 

The whole tent smells like dog.

 

That’s not a dog. That’s a –

 

Jesus Christ.

 

I collapse on him. I’m weak all over, I can’t even push myself away from this thing that stole Fraser from me. I’m gonna have to get out but I’ve turned to water. I can’t move a limb and I’m not even scared anymore. I’m so far past scared that –

 

The wolf shifts and rolls me onto my back. I hit the thick layer of the sleeping bag. I feel the air move as it turns its head and stands over me. Hot breath on my face.

 

It’s gonna eat me. Bye Bye Life. Bye Bye Fraser. It was nice knowing you. Oh God. I hope I see you again....

 

The thing licks me.

 

The fuck?

 

A big wet doggy swipe across my face, doggy breath and everything, and I can hear the ‘whump, whump’ of a wagging tail. Cautiously I put my arm around it. Its tail beats even faster and it lets out a series of happy yips, licks my face again.

 

Uh....

 

“Fraser?” I whisper. “Is that you?”

 

The thing yips again. It gets up and runs around the tent, bashing the side of it in excitement. Snow slides off on the other side of the fabric. Fuck, I hope this crazy wolf doesn’t knock the tent down. It drops down next to me then, and somehow I know that it’s head is pointed up. I even know it’s gonna –

 

I stick my fingers in my ears just before it howls. Even so, it’s loud enough it makes me dizzy. Outside the dogs start barking and howling themselves. Sounds like they’re all singing. 

 

The wolf drops down, lies against me all up my side. It’s tail is still beating, and I realise that this is one big wolf. It’s as big as a man. It’s stopped howling, but it’s still licking my face. I put a cautious arm around it and scratch behind its ears. It rolls on its back and makes a happy doggy moan.

 

“Frase,” I whisper. “Not that I’m complaining or nothing, but I’m kinda freaked out here and I’d really like to talk to you.” 

 

The wolf stops making its happy little noises. I worry that I’ve hurt Fraser’s feelings, but then I can feel the muscles and bones shifting underneath the hair and skin. The wolf groans, and it sounds nearly human. Then, with a sound like a pop, the body changes completely, and Fraser says, “Damn. That hurts every time.”

 

“Uh – Ben?” I’ve never called him Ben before, but I figure if he gets naked and turns into a wolf we’re on first name terms. “You okay?”

 

“I am now.” He sounds happy. If he still had a tail it would be wagging. “I thought if you knew you’d be scared of me. That you’d run away.”

 

Well, if I hadn’t been stuck in a tent with him I would have done, but he doesn’t need to know that. And I gotta say, I’m glad I didn’t.

 

“It, uh – it wasn’t what I was expecting,” I say. “But, you know. It’s good.”

 

“Is it?” He sounds a bit worried again.

 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s still you in there.” Crazy happy you, but I kind of like knowing there’s a crazy happy Fraser in behind the Mountie Mask.

 

“Yes.” He leans up against me, and I realise he’s still naked. “It’s still me.”

 

“Shit. You must be freezing.” I remember what he said about conserving body heat in an emergency. “You’d better get in with me.”

 

“Thank you,” he says. I can hear him smiling. “Does that mean...?”

 

“Uh...” Did I just ask a naked Benton Fraser to get into bed with me? “Yes,” I say. “Yes, it does.”

 

He hums happily and we start wriggling back into my sleeping bag. He unzips and unbuttons me enough that I can feel his bare flesh up against my own.

 

Okay. This I’ve dreamt about. Just one thing....

 

“Ben?”

 

“Yes, Ray?”

 

“You’re into this? I mean, you’re into me?”

 

“Yes.” He snuggles his head down and sniffs me. That sniffing and licking thing he does makes a lot more sense now. “I’m into you.”

 

“So, why did you never say anything?”

 

“I thought if you knew about – well, about my other skin – you’d be afraid of me. You might even hate me.”

 

“God’s sake, Ben." I bop him on the shoulder. "I could never hate you.”

 

“Can we...?” His hand drifts to a very happy place. I hadn’t noticed I was getting happy down there, but I realise now it started happening right after he turned back from wolf to human.

 

“Uh – yeah. Just, I gotta ask....”

 

“What? His hand goes still on my thigh, just above my happy place.

 

“You don’t expect me to – when you’re a wolf....”  I shudder. I don’t want to finish that thought.

 

“Good Lord, no.” He shudders too. “That doesn’t bear thinking about.” He pauses. “Unless....”

 

“Unless what?”

 

“Unless you wanted me to bite you. It would have to be under a full moon of course....”

 

“Is that how you became a werewolf?”

 

“Oh no. That was when I was a child and fell through ice. Fortunately, Buck Frobisher was there and pulled me out; gave me mouth to mouth.  Unfortunately – well, fortunately as it turns out – the moon was full. And well - now that you've been out here you understand how extreme cold can cause your skin to crack, so –”

 

“So, his skin cracked?"

 

"Yes. His lip, apparently.

 

"And there was blood involved?”

 

“A little. The tiniest amount.” He clears his throat. “When we realised, of course, Buck was very apologetic.”

 

“But, when you’re a wolf.... uh. You seem kind of happy.”

 

“Well, that's a simplification. I'm more in tune with myself, I don't worry about things as much, but I'm not always happy."

 

"But you were happy just now?"

 

"Oh, yes. Very much so. You were with me, and you accepted me, and....”

 

“Hey, Ben?”

 

“Yes, Ray?”

 

“You do realise there’s a full moon tonight?”

 

“Yes. That was a stroke of good luck. It makes the transformation easier to attain, so....”

 

“Hey, Ben. Anyone ever tell you talk too much?”

 

“Oh.” He  sounds upset and pulls back a little. “I’m sorry. I....”

 

“Hey, Ben?”

 

“What?”

 

“Bite me.”

 

I sense rather than see his smile. 

 

He bites me.

 

_Ow, fuck._

 

Oh. Greatness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of Ushobwri's October themed challenges. In this case the prompts were:  
> weres, garous, changelings, shifters.


End file.
